


Nighthawks at the Diner

by Lakritzwolf



Category: Mortal Instruments - City of Bones, The Mortal Instruments (Movies), Young Hercules
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Late night radio show, M/M, Modern Iolaus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9442370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: Written as a collection of prompts for the WinterFRE2017





	1. Nighthawks at the Diner

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this with the assistance of Tom Waits and Tallisker Storm. Emotional Weather report is a song by Tom Waits, on the CD _[Nighthawks at the Diner](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ohI8oV5mYkU)_.
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**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WinterFRE Prompt 161: He’s a local radio animator, and talks to lonely strangers needing comfort from 3 to 4 AM. One night, a very distraught man calls and the animator literally falls in love with the stranger’s voice.

“Hello fellow nighthawks, this is Luke. It’s three a m and you’re listening to Brooklyn 107.7.”

He sits back and plays Nighthawks at the Diner, just as he does every night. It’s the name of his show. If you can call it that. Luke is the very personification of a nighthawk, and he loves this job. It’s not as if it pays good, but this is his domain. This, the small hours of the night, when everyone else is asleep he is the most awake. A stupid biorhythm, but there is no one who wants to cover this shift, and he has made these hours his own. 

From Midnight to five, until the boys for the Breakfast Show come in, he is alone up here and almost the only person in the building. Brooklyn 107.7 isn’t a huge business, and if it weren’t for him they would play an endless loop of ten or twenty songs each night. As it is, Luke is always awake anyway and he doesn’t mind if he gets no night shift premium. He is awake anyway, he might as well put his time to a good use.

He can’t remember when and why he had the idea about the helpline. He had been bored that night, so he had made the offer on air to just call him and have a chat. The first person who had called was a woman who had sounded to be in her fifties, and she had been crying because her son had been out at a party doing drugs. There hadn’t been anyone else to talk to, and Luke had listened. And while he had done so, he had looked at the screen in front of him and pulled up the numbers of a few helplines who could actually help her. She had thanked him in tears.

Sometimes he wonders if the son made it, if his mother got the help she needed. 

But after that night people had called. Of course, there are always a few pricks who act like shit, but almost every night there is at least one person who isn’t just lonely or bored but really needs someone to talk to.

He listens to Tom Waits and wonders how people imagine him. A shabby guy sitting in a tiny studio filled with wafting cigarette smoke and a faint scent of beer, probably. He grins and takes a sip of coffee. 

The phone rings, and he talks to an elderly woman who tells him her grandson is gay. He frowns and is about to hang up when she continues, in tears, how her daughter and son-in-law have thrown the poor young man out and that she has no space in her tiny flat, and she has no idea what to do with the traumatised teenager. _The poor boy_ , she keeps saying. _My poor little boy_. 

Luke looks for help online, finds a few numbers and websites. She is most likely too old and the youngster still too shocked to think of that himself. She thanks him, still in tears.

He hopes they will make it, but it feels like the grandma knows what she has to do, and just needed some help finding out how to do it. 

After that he pours another coffee and continues to listen to Tom Waits. They’re pals, he and Tom. Here, in the small hours of the night, they keep each other company. Each other and those lost souls that are god knows where out there listening to the radio at half past three a m.

The phone rings again, and this time he has a few girls on the line, drunken teenagers by the sound of it, and they tell him how sexy he is and that they want to have his babies. He politely tells them that he is flattered but that they are barking up the wrong tree and hangs up. 

Another coffee, another song. Emotional Weather Report. 

The phone rings, and Luke takes another sip of coffee.

“Hey, this is Luke. What’s up?”

There is silence for a moment.

“Hey,” says a male voice, very hesitantly. “I… I can’t sleep…”

It sounds like the voice of a young man, but it’s husky, and from what Luke has learned over the last two years he is sure he has been crying. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks gently.  
“I’m… alone.” He still talks hesitantly. “There is… no one left.”

He has an accent Luke can’t identify, but that explains the pauses between the words. His English isn’t very good. He has a nice voice though, a clear tenor, or it would be clear if it wasn’t rough from crying. 

“No one?” He asks.  
“He… he left me.”  
“He left you alone.”  
“Yes.”  
“For someone else?”  
“Yes.”

These cases are always hard. Relationship counselling really isn’t his forte. And here he should know everything about relationship crises, heartbreaks and break-ups.

“Do you still love him?”

There is a long pause. Then, a very timid answer.

“I don’t know.”  
“You know, in that case you probably don’t, not anymore.”  
“But…” Another sob catches in the man’s throat.

Luke can sympathise. He feels he knows what has happened. Can very well imagine it. How everything seems roses, and then suddenly, there’s someone else. One moment you think life is good, and the next you’re on your ass wondering what happened.

“Look, if he just up and left you then he’s not worth another single tear. I know it still hurts, but you have to look ahead. Talk to other people, preferably face to face. You know you can always talk to me, but I think some friends or family would be better.”

“But they are… gone…” 

The sentence peters out, either because it hurts too much or because he is not sure about his choice of words. Luke desperately hopes it’s the latter.

“No one left,” the stranger says again. “They are… back home. I went to him… and then he left.”

Oh fuck. The accent and the desperate tears suddenly paint a clear and ugly picture.

“You met him back home, and you fell in love, and you followed him, and now he dumped you in a foreign country?”  
“Yes.” It’s hardly audible anymore.  
“Jesus. Can you get in touch with your family?”  
“They… they are happy. They… My father… I’m gay, and he don’t want me.”

Oh for fucking fuck’s sake. This is getting worse by the minute. What that man needs is a hug and a drink. And here he is, talking to a complete stranger at half past three in the morning because he literally has no one else to talk to. 

“No one knows if I go,” the stranger says. “No one misses me.”

Something cold creeps down Luke’s spine.

“Look, buddy, whatever it is, it’s not worth throwing your life away. You only have that one. There has to be a way for you to get back home. Maybe not your family. But just home?”  
“I am bad at English,” he says, close to tears again. “I’m bad, and I can’t have a job, a good job, and I can’t find money.”

It’s true, Luke realises. The more distraught he gets, the more his accent thickens. 

“There is nothing,” the stranger says. “No one. I can’t talk…”  
“You can talk to me,” Luke says, in an attempt to somehow give the desperate stranger a straw to cling to.  
“But I can’t… Can you talk Greek?”  
“No, but talk to me. You need someone to talk to. So talk to me. I can’t understand you, but I will listen. For what it’s worth, I will listen.”

There is silence on the other hand, and Luke worries that he might just hang up. But then he can hear him draw a few deep breaths. 

Then he begins to talk. And suddenly, his voice is clear, and smooth, and while there are still tears, clearly audible, his voice has suddenly a musical ring to it that makes butterflies hatch in Luke’s stomach. 

He doesn’t understand a single word the stranger says, but he listens. He listens, just because no one else will. He listens with all his strength, because he wants the other man to feel that he is listened to. 

The stranger is in tears now, but he still talks. Luke can imagine what he talks about, how his family threw him out, how terrible that must have felt, how frightened and alone he must have been. How he believed that love would find a way and help him into a new life. And now he is stranded in a country he hardly knows, alone, on the other side of the world. He can’t speak the language properly and with the shit ass jobs he can do like that he will never be able to make enough money to go home again. The man he has followed across the world left him alone. Utterly and completely alone. 

Luke listens. He doesn’t understand a single word, and so his mind is free to just listen to his voice. It’s a beautiful voice. A clear tenor, just like he imagined, and the way it trembles with emotion plucks at his heartstrings. 

Eventually he stops talking, and Luke opens his eyes again. 

“Did that help at all?”  
“Thank you,” the stranger whispers, his voice clogged with tears. “Thank you.”  
“Anytime, my friend,” Luke says. “Anytime.”

The stranger hangs up, and Luke looks at the clock. Five minutes are left until four, until he closes the line again. No one calls. Luke pours himself another coffee and thinks of the young Greek stranded in this city. How he has to miss home, the sunshine, the warmth, the blue seas Luke only knows from travel magazines and the TV. And now he is stuck in Brooklyn. And it’s November. Everything in Brooklyn in November is cold, dark, grey and wet. The poor, poor guy. 

At five the guys from the Breakfast Show come in. Luke clears his cup and the thermos away and leaves the building. It’s snowing, and he tries not to think of a white beach at the Mediterranean Sea.

* * *

The stranger with the beautiful voice calls again the next night. Luke doesn’t ask him if he feels any better, because things like that take some time to heal. The heartbreak, that is. Building himself a new life will be even harder.

The stranger asks if he can talk to him again. 

“It helped,” he says. “A bit I was not so alone.”  
“Sure.” Luke pours another coffee. “Talk to me. I’ll listen.”

And so the stranger talks. To Luke, his voice speaks of white beaches and small villages of white houses, of olive trees and orange trees and drinking wine in a vine bower during a warm summer night. Most likely that’s not what he talks about. But then, maybe it is. He is clearly homesick, very much so, so maybe olive trees is what he talks about. Maybe he lived in the bloody middle of Athens and has never seen an old olive tree up close, but to Luke, it doesn’t make a difference. He listens.

“Thank you for listening,” the stranger says after a moment of silence. “Thank you for listening. No one does.”  
“Anytime,” Luke says. 

He doesn’t say that he could listen to that voice for hours. He could read the phone book of Athens to him, and Luke would listen.

Luke goes home that morning and wonders if the stranger will call again. He comes home and takes a shower, he makes himself breakfast, which is sort of his dinner with the schedule he has, and he watches TV for a while before going to bed. In his dreams, a dark haired young man offers him a glass of wine.

* * *

It’s half past three and Luke pours himself a coffee and listens to Tom Waits. The phone rings, and he talks to a man who is clearly drunk, but clearly desperate, because his wife left him. He says over and over again that he promised her he would get a grip on the alcohol. Luke finds a few numbers for him and tells him that maybe she will remember her wedding day, when he talks to her again and is clean and is again the man she married. 

He has seen the light blink for a while now, another caller who’s on hold because the line is busy. It makes him nervous, for the first time in years. When the call finally ends he immediately picks up. 

“Hello Luke,” says the voice he has been waiting for.  
“Hey,” Luke says and smiles. “Do you need someone to talk to?”  
“Yes,” he says shyly. “If you can’t mind.”  
“I don’t mind at all,” Luke says. 

He clutches his cup and listens. This time he can feel the pain of the break-up again, and the hopeless loneliness. He can hear the white beaches again and the olive trees. But for some reason, it all sounds less painful. And he wants to think it’s because of him, because of the fact that the stranger with the beautiful voice has finally found someone to empty his heart to. 

On his way home he can’t get the image of a handsome young man with dark hair and dark eyes out of his head. He scolds himself. He might be ugly as fuck. But even if he is, he still has that beautiful voice. Can someone who has a voice like that really be ugly? Truly ugly?

Luke goes to bed that day and tries not to think of a man he has never met, and whom he will never meet. But it doesn’t seem like the young man still thinks of killing himself, and Luke clings to that. They will never meet, but he left a trace in the stranger’s life that he will most likely never forget. Luke will certainly never forget that voice.

* * *

The stranger doesn’t call again that night. Luke waits, and he hates the two callers he has to talk to with a passion. But it doesn’t make a difference. There is no red light blinking that tells him someone is on hold. 

At four o’clock he switches off the phone. He closes his eyes and wishes the stranger all the luck in the world.

* * *

At quarter past five, Luke leaves the building. It’s snowing again, and he shivers as he steps out into the wet cold that seeps into your bones no matter what you wear. He tries not to think of white beaches and orange trees. 

He doesn’t see him at first, the man bundled up in a thick coat, hat and mittens and a scarf that is a Niagara fall of wool. First when he walks up to Luke does he notice the man. He lowers his head. It’s not a shady area of the city, but it’s not well lit and you never know what kind of people you run into at this hour. 

Not that Luke isn’t fully capable of defending himself if he has to. He is far more dangerous than any thug he could run into, even if he doesn’t look like it. But there’s no reason to provoke it so he tries to skirt around that stranger. But the stranger doesn’t let him and steps in his way. Luke looks up with an angry scowl. 

He isn’t prepared for the smile. A pair of dimples appears between scarf and hat, and in the lamp light he can see blue eyes and strands of golden, curly hair stick out from under the hat. 

“Luke?”

Luke’s heart drops into his stomach. It’s only one word, but he doesn’t need more to recognise that voice. 

“Yes?”  
“I want to say… thank you.” The stranger still smiles, and Luke watches a snowflake land on his lashes. It melts as he blinks. “You saved my life. If you had not listen at me…”

The smile wanes and with it, the light around them seems to fade. Luke swallows hard. So this is the face to the voice. Not at all like he imagined. Not at all the typical Mediterranean type. Luke looks more Mediterranean than him with his dark hair and brown eyes. And here he thought he isn’t the prejudiced kind of guy. 

“You’re more than welcome,” he says. “I’m glad I could help. Though I’m pretty sure I didn’t save your life.”  
The stranger looks at him out of eyes that darken in pain. “I sat at the shower and the knife in hand,” he says. “I was looked… looking at a reason to not do it. You gave it.”

Luke feels a cold shiver crawl down his spine. He can see it now, the face wet with tears, eyes swollen and red, and he sits there leaning against the wall of the shower with a knife lying on his wrist and talks to a stranger. Who does nothing but listen to him. 

“I’m happy I could help,” Luke says again, because he has no idea what else to say. 

The stranger smiles again and shoves his hands into his pockets. “I… thank you. I go now. I wanted… I wanted to say thank you. Not on the phone. Really say it.”  
“It’s… appreciated,” Luke says and wants to say he has been wondering about how he looks, but that would be creepy so he smiles instead.

The stranger smiles back and there are the dimples again. Luke wants to reach out and stick the tips of his fingers into them. 

“Okay.” The stranger takes a step back. “Thank you, Luke. Goodbye.”

Luke stares at his back. There he goes, the man with the beautiful voice. The most beautiful voice he ever heard. A voice that has haunted him into his dreams already. A voice that belongs to a beautiful man. A lonely man. A man who needs a friend.

He is running before he realises it.

“Hey!”

The stranger stops and turns around. He smiles again and Luke catches up with him. 

“I…” Luke adjusts his beanie and smiles. “I don’t know… I thought… would you like to grab a coffee?”  
“With you?” The strangers eyes grow wide.  
“Uhm… yeah. With me. If you want.”  
“I... yes. Very much.” 

The dimples are back. Luke stares at them, and then he meets the stranger’s eyes. And he knows he’s lost. Hook, line and sinker.

* * *

They have a coffee, and Luke listens. He has no idea what the beautiful stranger talks about, but he listens as he sips his coffee, and when their eyes meet, they smile.

Luke realises at that moment that he hasn’t even asked the stranger’s name. The young man laughs and blushes a bit. 

“I am so sorry!” He shakes his head. “I’m Iolaus.”  
“Luke,” Luke says without thinking, then he facepalms.

They look at each other, and now they both laugh.

“So, Iolaus,” Luke says and takes his cup. “Can I ask you what you just talked about?”  
“Oh, nothing...” Iolaus looks into his coffee. “Home,” he says then. “I live… lived in north of Athens. I just… talked about home. Mamá’s cakes and the old tree on the garden.”  
“An olive tree?” Luke asks before he can stop himself.  
“Yes,” Iolaus says with a sigh. “Old olive tree.” 

They have another coffee, and another. They don’t talk much now, but it’s a comfortable silence. They have another coffee, and as they both simultaneously reach for the sugar sprinkler, their fingers brush. 

They both freeze, and they look at each other with a shy smile.

* * *

Three nights later he calls again. He is sad, his voice is heavy, and he clearly needs someone to talk to again. Luke listens. He still doesn’t understand a word Iolaus says, but somehow, it doesn’t feel as if he is talking about olive trees or his ex. What he talks about, Luke has no idea.

Iolaus thanks him again for listening. Luke is prepared. He spent some time in front of his laptop these days and did research, although it’s not more than a single phrase. He says it, and Iolaus is very, very still for a moment.

“Parakaló fíle mou.”

 _You are welcome, my friend._

“Thank you,” he says again. There are tears in his voice, but Luke can also hear a smile.

* * *

When Luke leaves the building at quarter past five he is there again, wrapped in his Niagara fall of wool. He is running, and before Luke can react Iolaus has thrown his arms around him and is in tears.

Luke holds on. Apparently his attempt at offering some sort of comfort with giving him a few friendly words in his own language has backfired. 

But then Iolaus takes a deep breath. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you.”  
“I didn’t really do anything now, did I?”  
Iolaus leans back, and his cheeks are wet with tears. “It was a world to me.”

They look at each other, and Luke clears his throat.

“Do you want another coffee?”  
Iolaus nods and smiles at him through his tears.

* * *

They have their coffee, and another one. Iolaus talks, and Luke listens. 

At one point their hands brush, and when Luke cautiously closes his fingers around Iolaus’ hand the latter looks up with a shy smile. 

They don’t let go, and order another coffee.


	2. Bed of Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WinterFRE2017 - Prompt 8: I’m on the verge of tears because of a rude customer and you step in and stand up for me

They see each other for a coffee a few times more, but Luke is hesitant of pushing for anything more than holding hands. Iolaus seems as reluctant as well about more physical contact, so Luke contents himself with being in his presence, looking at that golden hair and those bright blue eyes and listening to the voice that is as beautiful as the man it belongs to.

Iolaus doesn’t call anymore at night, and why should he? Luke listens to him whenever he needs to. They exchanged numbers and keep in touch. 

Now Luke also knows why Iolaus was there to meet him after work. He is struggling to make ends meet and has to work three jobs; he works in two different fast food joints and at Wal-Mart too, either re-shelving at daytime or cleaning at night. It was after one of the cleaning jobs that he was there outside Radio Brooklyn waiting for him. 

Iolaus tells him that he always listens to him when he cleans in Wal-Mart at night. Has listened to him for a long time. He still does, and says that he draws comfort from Luke’s voice at two in the morning, or at three, when he hates his life most because he just wants to sleep but has to work because otherwise he pretty soon wouldn’t have a place to sleep anymore.

Luke feels sorry for him, and he is also worried. He has to work so much, and gets to sleep so little. But he himself just gets along; he doesn’t struggle, but he doesn’t have much to spare. They could throw in together and maybe Iolaus could give up one of his jobs then, but after what happened to the young Greek, Luke doesn’t even want to hint at it. He just emerged out of an abysmal break-up. He is clearly not ready for another relationship even if he also very clearly has feelings for Luke. 

Luckily, Luke is a very patient man. He can show Iolaus affection and make it clear he is genuinely interested, but he is able to hold himself back and not make any advances on him. He wants to let the other man set the pace. 

A few times already Iolaus has picked him up after work, and they walk side by side to the coffee shop a few blocks down the road. It’s not a big chain, Starbucks or something. It’s run by two middle aged ladies who serve homemade baked goods and a damn good coffee for a good price. It’s value for money, and the atmosphere is warm and friendly.

They sit there often, at a table in the back, and sometimes they talk. Sometimes they sit there in silence, a very comfortable silence. Sometimes one of them brushes the other’s hand with his, and they close their fingers around each other’s. 

And sometimes, Luke just holds Iolaus’ hand and the younger man talks; he talks about Greece, maybe, or about his former lover, about his family, or maybe he is just complaining about his jobs. Luke doesn’t know, but he listens. 

Now they are here again, a Monday morning at seven o’clock because Iolaus was there again after a night shift. He has just finished one of his long, somewhat desperate monologues that Luke never tires of listening to. 

But during the weeks the two have been hanging out together, Luke has noticed a significant improvement in the young man’s English. It seems like he primarily lacked practise until then, and Luke wonders if his ex speaks Greek himself.

He gets an answer to that this very morning.

“Thank you for listening,” Iolaus says, as he does every time.  
And as every time, Luke answers: “Anytime, friend.”

Then Iolaus sighs. “I wish... I wish you could understand me. I would love... just talk about it.”  
“You can try,” Luke replies. “I’m sure we can figure this out.”  
Iolaus nods, but he looks unconvinced.

“Is it... is it home you talk about?”  
“Sometimes.” Iolaus looks into his cup. “But today I talked... about him.”  
Luke doesn’t have to ask who that ‘him’ is. “Do you still miss him?”  
“Yes.” He sighs. “No.” Then he looks up at Luke. “I don’t know.”

Luke tries to understand, and maybe he does.

“You miss him because he was the only person you were familiar with.”  
Iolaus nods.  
“Did he... does he speak Greek?”  
Iolaus nods again. “We met home, in Athens. I was visiting family. He was on holiday.”  
“Is he an ex-pat Greek, by any chance?”  
Now he has Iolaus confused. “What is ex-pat?”

Smiling at him, Luke pats his hand to show him he doesn’t mind explaining things. “An ex-pat is someone who left the country to live in another.”  
Now Iolaus’ eyes lighten up for a moment. “Ah,” he says. “Yes, he is. Ares left Greece a few years ago, but comes back each year.”  
“And that’s where you met and fell in love.”

Iolaus nods and stares into his empty cup again. 

“Hey,” Luke says gently. “It’s okay. We all make mistakes.”  
“Some are bigger mistakes. I will... I will never...”  
“Never say never,” Luke interrupts him because those beautiful eyes begin to fill with tears.

Iolaus nods, but he doesn’t seem convinced that his life will ever make a turn for the better. 

They have to say goodbye soon afterwards, as Iolaus has to work again that afternoon and he needs all the sleep he can get. They part at the corner three blocks down and Luke smiles and watches him go. They haven’t kissed yet, and even though Luke really, really wants to feel and taste those perfect lips, he has not shown Iolaus any interest in doing so. 

He is still thinking about those lips as he goes to bed.

* * *

Luke hates shopping for groceries, but he also has to eat, so he bites the bullet, grabs his backpack and leaves the house. 

He has never shopped at Wal-Mart before and he has no idea what makes him go there now. Well, he has a very clear idea, but he also worries it might freak Iolaus out a bit. He isn’t quite familiar with Iolaus’ schedule, so he has no idea if he is working at Wal-Mart this afternoon or in one of the fast food joints.

He wheels his cart along and throws his stuff in, but it takes him longer than usual because he doesn’t know where the items he is after are, as he shops here for the first time. 

And then he sees him, pulling a hand forklift that is laden high with palettes of packs of canned foods. He takes a step back into the other aisle. He really doesn’t want to freak him out and suddenly regrets coming here. It was a shit-ass stupid idea because if Iolaus sees him he will feel stalked. 

Then he sees a large display of canned fruit that are on a super-saver special offer. Suddenly he doesn’t regret coming here after all and throws a dozen cans into his cart. He is about to head for check-out when someone behind him starts yelling, in the next aisle, the aisle where he knows Iolaus is lugging heavy palettes around. A furious customer who is clearly having a go at Iolaus. 

“You fucking idiot!”  
“I’m really sorry, Sir. My sincerest apologies...”  
“Scum like you simply doesn’t belong here where decent people just want to shop in peace!”  
“I am so sorry, Sir...”  
“And can’t even speak properly! I can hardly understand a fucking word you say! Learn to speak the language properly if you come here!”  
“Yes, Sir, I...”  
“You should be scrubbing toilets somewhere at night or collect people’s trash, you sorry piece of...”

“That’s quite enough,” Luke growls. 

He hasn’t been able to listen to the stranger abusing Iolaus like that, but he knows he would have stepped in even if the person in question were a total stranger. No one deserves to be treated that way.

“Is that how parents of decent people teach their children to speak?” Luke glares at the man, and he knows his glare is up there with the best of them, thanks to his eyebrows. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Confronted with an angry man who is several inches taller than him instead of the timid and smaller Iolaus, the man loses some of his gab.

“This is none of your business.”  
“It is my business, as I like to shop in peace as much as the next person, only I can’t if some sorry loser who’s had a bad day at work heaps verbal abuse on an innocent person!”  
“Innocent...” The man huffs. “He could be doing a proper job instead of getting into people’s way.”  
“But he was just unloading...”  
“In my way! I want to speak to the manager!”

“Now listen, you...” Luke begins, but the other customer has already alerted the manager who must have been nearby.

“What can I do for you, Sir?”  
“That idiot there,” the other man glares at Iolaus. “Just blocking the whole aisle so I can’t get any shopping done and then running into my cart with that thing!”

Luke can see that the hand forklift is parked as closely to the shelf as possible and that Iolaus also stands a few feet away from it, a large packing case of canned beans still in both hands.

“Strange,” he says and looks very pointedly back and forth between the other customer’s cart, the fork lift and Iolaus with his hands full. “I had no idea staff at Wal-Mart can move their vehicles telepathically.”

The manager follows Luke’s gaze and a small line forms on his forehead. Luke has no idea if that’s a good or a bad sign, so he looks at the other customer again, a bald man, tall and broad-shouldered. Classical schoolyard bully type, used to getting his way no matter what. 

“Because I can’t imagine anyone just forgets to look where they wheel their cart. Not possible.”

The other customer glares at him and the manager pinches the bridge of his nose while Iolaus stares at all three of them with wide eyes. He’s quite obviously afraid of loosing his job. 

Now the other customer glares at the manager. “I demand compensation! I got better things to do with my time than standing around here being annoyed by useless foreigners who have no clue about their work and steal the jobs from good American people!”  
“I assure you, Sir, I will deal with the matter accordingly,” the store manager says and digs into a pocket. 

Since being an asshole is often being rewarded Luke isn’t surprised he hands the bastard a $20 off voucher. Mostly pacified, the man pockets the voucher and glares at Iolaus again. 

“Learn how to do your job,” he snarls. “Or leave it to people who can do it better than you.”  
“People like you I suppose?” Luke asks. “Who heap abuse on someone and bully them within an inch of their life just because they can?”  
“Fuck off,” the guy mutters and grabs his cart. 

Luke watches him go and slowly turns towards the manager who is again pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re not going to fire him over this, are you?”  
The store manager sighs. “I hate my job,” he mutters. “No,” he says then after looking at Iolaus and the hand forklift, parked according to regulations. “He’s one of my best, most diligent workers.” 

Then the manager takes a deep breath and looks at Iolaus. “Look, I’d rather forget about this whole thing and that guy, so I’m not going to put anything down in your record.”  
Iolaus is close to tears again, from sheer relief this time. “Thank you, Sir.”  
“As you were.” The manager gives Luke a nod and vanishes around the corner again.

Iolaus swallows hard and Luke can see how he struggles to get the packing case into the upper shelf. He has a look around, but no one is within sight, so he walks over, takes the case and shoves it into place.

“Thank you,” Iolaus whispers. “Also for... speaking up.”  
“I couldn’t let that happen,” Luke says. “But I’d also have done it if I hadn’t known you. I hate bullying.”  
“Thank you,” Iolaus says again. “I have to get back to work.”  
“You do,” Luke says.

He turns around and grabs his cart, but then he looks at Iolaus again. “When do you finish? We could grab a coffee, if you want.”

Now Iolaus smiles again, and there they are again, the butterflies in Luke’s stomach. 

“I would love to,” he says. “In an hour.”  
“Cool. I’ll be here.”

* * *

Luke carries his stuff home and resists the urge to check himself in the mirror. After leaving the house he rolls his shoulders and he is there five minutes after Iolaus has said he’d be finished. He doesn’t have to wait long until he sees him, leaving the building and as usual cocooned in several layers of wool. 

They head for their favourite little coffee shop, but Iolaus is very silent that evening. Luke lets him have his silence, but they spend quite some time there. When they leave it’s almost time for him to go to work.

“Say,” he asks as they walk side by side. “Do you live far away? I could walk you home. If you like.”  
Iolaus smiles, for the first time that evening, and nods. “That’s nice of you.”

They only have to walk for two more blocks, and Luke’s heart sinks when he sees the house Iolaus lives in. There are broken windows, and next to the door lies an upturned, dented trashcan. He knew before that Iolaus lives in a tiny place, but now he can well imagine that it has to be abysmal. Rusty pipes and dirt and probably rats too. For a moment he has to resist the urge to tell Iolaus to move in with him. 

Now they stand here, next to the door with a broken glass pane that is covered with a rough wooden board. Crumbly plaster is peeling off the walls. 

“Thank you,” Iolaus says again and toys nervously with his keys. 

Luke has the feeling he wants to say something else, so he waits.

“Thank you,” he says again. “I could have lost my job if you hadn’t spoken to my boss.”  
“I couldn’t just stand by and let this asshole abuse you and then watch how he gets you fired.”

Iolaus nods and then looks up at him. A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and Luke forces himself to look into his eyes, not stare at the dimples.

Then Iolaus steps closer, and Luke can feel the gloved fingers touch his right hand. He closes his fingers around that hand and smiles. 

“You are a good man,” Iolaus says as he steps closer. “And I... I am thankful that you are... my friend.”

Friend. Luke tries to not look disappointed. Friendzoned. 

Or was he? Because suddenly Iolaus stands very close to him, and looks up at him with soft eyes and ever so slightly parted lips.

“I could...” Luke begins hesitantly. “If you want, I could be more than your friend.”

Iolaus bites his lower lip and god, he is so adorable that Luke just wants to bundle him into his arms, carry him home and feed him chocolate for the rest of the night. He cautiously reaches out and touches a strand of golden hair that has escaped from under the hat.

Iolaus swallows as he does so.

“Can I kiss you?” Luke asks in a whisper.

Iolaus hesitates, and he already curses himself, but then the beautiful young man tilts his head back and closes his eyes. 

His lips are soft, and warm, and they feel even better than Luke could have ever imagined. They just stand there and share a few soft kisses, until Luke realises that Iolaus is shivering because they have been standing still in the cold December air for too long. 

“You’d better go to bed,” he says gently after leaning back and caresses Iolaus’ cheeks.  
“And you have to go to work,” Iolaus whispers in return. 

Luke nods, and Iolaus steps back with a smile. “Good night.”  
“Good night.”

Luke goes straight to work and is just on time. 

“Hello fellow nighthawks, this is Luke. It’s three a m and you’re listening to Brooklyn 107.7.”

He plays love songs for most of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to 80s rock ballads as I wrote and when I reached the kiss, Bon Jovi started playing _Bed of Roses_. Fate.


	3. When Love and Hate collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WinterFRE2017 - Prompt 135: Don’t open that door!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [When Love and Hate collide](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d7ew_jIxLa8) \- Def Leppard

Luke likes to think that now they’re officially dating, but it’s the middle of December now, and he hasn’t seen Iolaus in days. The closer Christmas gets the less time he has; he’s the youngest, the newest and he doesn’t have a family, so he gets all the shifts the others don’t want, all those graveyard shifts and the early morning ones and the weekends as well. 

Luke knows there’s nothing for it. It’s hire and fire, and it’s Christmas time in Brooklyn. Iolaus is not the only one who struggles. The moment he gets fired there are two other people who want his job, so he has to keep his head down and do as he is told. 

They haven’t talked much lately and it feels weird. They’re an item now, or at least much closer to being one after they kissed a few times. Nothing more happened so far. 

Iolaus is reluctant to take Luke home and Luke can totally understand. The place where he lives is an utter shithole. It’s a disgrace that someone earns that much money for letting anyone live there.

He has been there, though it hadn’t been planned. He had walked Iolaus home and shortly before they had reached the place it had started to snow, that wet slurry that is half snow half rain, and he had taken shelter with Iolaus to wait until the worst had passed.

The place is tiny, a room with a bed on one side and a tiny kitchen on the other. Kitchen is maybe putting it a bit strong; it is a tiny cooker with two hotplates that sits on a cabinet, and above that another cabinet on the wall. A sink and a small fridge and a microwave that has seen better days long ago. 

The bathroom is outside in the hallway and he has to share it with the other four tenants on the floor. A bottle of disinfectant spray and a roll of toilet paper sit on a small sideboard next to the door. 

Luke can understand why Iolaus doesn’t want him there. It’s disgusting, although it’s clear that Iolaus does what he can to keep the place clean. He has no influence on the state of the bathroom, however, or only at the moment he needs to use it. He told Luke he washes in the kitchen as best as he can to use the bathroom as little as possible. He also told him he has contemplated more than once to shave off his hair so he can make do without showers. 

Luke had hastily offered that he could come by and have a shower at his place anytime. Iolaus had smiled and thanked him quietly, but had never taken him up on the offer. Not yet. Luke knows he is acting stupid and maybe even a bit selfish, but the thought of Iolaus without that glorious golden mane is somewhat painful. 

At night, when he sits alone in the dimly lit studio, he plays music he knows Iolaus likes and when he talks, he knows that he is out there somewhere listening to him. It’s strange how close that feels. 

Occasionally he says: “I’m playing this for you, I know you’re listening to me.”

And he knows that he is listening, and maybe he can smile a bit. 

Every now and then Iolaus has a few hours and he picks him up after a nightshift, and they share a few cold-nosed kisses before heading for the coffee shop. Only a couple of hours here and there. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing, and Luke knows that once Christmas is over and New Year’s Eve as well, Iolaus will be able to work a bit less. Hopefully. 

Luke has never given Christmas much thought. He is alone, his family as far away as Iolaus’ family is, but he never misses them much. Yes, he was homesick, sometimes, but it usually disappeared very fast. 

Now he thinks of Christmas back home when he was a kid, of cookies and mince pies and a roast and a Christmas tree. He hasn’t had a tree since he came to Brooklyn. And he thinks of Iolaus, so far away from home that he misses so much. Homesick and alone. 

He invites him over for Christmas, but Iolaus is working full time, or nearly so. He has Christmas day off, but that’s it. He also works New Year’s Eve, so Luke can’t keep him company then either. 

It’s not fair, but then, fair is where you go for cotton candy and a merry-go-round. Life is seldom fair. He has always known it, but it doesn’t make him feel any better.

* * *

Apart from Christmas, something else is now bothering Luke as well. For years he has been single, and he is so used to deal with his shit that he has all but forgotten about it. By the end of November he was thinking about a beautiful voice, but couldn’t have imagined that he would not only meet the one it belongs to, but also kiss him.

Now the end of December is near, another full moon looms threateningly ahead, and Luke has no idea how to handle it. He has been on and off in casual relationships, and the only two serious things he had going on during the last years had not been with mundanes. 

Now he remembers why. 

He is living a lie. He is pretending to be a normal human being, and while he is one most of the time… no, that’s wrong, because he isn’t. He is never a normal human being. He looks like a human being. And that is all that Iolaus knows. 

Luke gets restless and despairs. He can’t go on like this. He cannot possibly keep this a secret. But telling him the truth will only destroy everything. And yet, maybe it’s better that way. Iolaus doesn’t deserve to be lied to. And how could they be together, even if they don’t live together, with Luke having to change once every month? How could he keep this a secret? How can he keep on lying?

It is close to full moon, and Luke can already feel the pull, the restlessness, the itching inside that makes him want to crawl out of his own skin. He is edgy, and he is desperate, because it’s Christmas Day today and Iolaus is coming over in less than an hour. 

They haven’t seen each other in almost a week. How can Luke just tell him he can’t stay overnight? If he wants to, that is. Maybe he doesn’t. Which would be better, now, at this moment. It doesn’t solve the problem. Because the same problem will come back in January. And in February. It will come back every single month for the rest of his life. 

When the doorbell finally rings, Luke isn’t sure if he wants to yell at him to fuck off to get it over with, or fall onto his knees at his feet and confess. 

He forgets both when he opens the door and Iolaus smiles at him, that bright, beautiful, dimpled smile. They have their arms around each other before the door is even closed. 

It’s the first time Iolaus is here and he looks around, curious and shy at the same time. All the oddities that fill Luke’s shop make him smile in almost childish wonder, and he has never looked more endearing. 

Having him here, finally, has Luke forgetting everything he was worried about. Not now. Now he just wants to cherish a few moments of peace with him.

He should have known.

On their way to the flat where he lives they pass the room. Used to it, completely oblivious of his presence, Luke has forgotten it’s there. Iolaus sees it, of course. Luke, who hears that he stops, turns around. His heart sinks and he feels the cold dread of defeat crawl over him. 

“Is this the bathroom?” Iolaus asks and is about to open the door.  
“NO!”

Iolaus jumps and stares at him.

“Don’t open that door!” Luke feels cold sweat break out on his forehead. “Whatever happens, don’t open that door! Never open that door!”

Iolaus stares at him with his mouth hanging open.

Luke has no idea how he can explain the solid reinforced door that has a timed lock outside. He has no idea what to say and how to say it. His throat is dry, almost too dry to speak. 

He takes a deep breath, and he sees Iolaus’ eyes darken with worry. 

“Luke?”

Luke takes a few deep breaths more and still, he can only shake his head. He feels the hot burning of tears prickle in his eyes. 

“Iolaus…” He can hardly speak. This is it. He has to think of a lie, something he has been ignoring for so long. He has to think of something to let him down, gently, to make him leave and never come back. Because the truth… telling him the truth doesn’t bear thinking about. 

“Luke?” He asks again. 

Luke shakes his head and blinks his tears away. He is an idiot. He is such a stupid, fucking, selfish idiot. He should never have let him close. Because here he is, stepping closer with soft eyes, wanting to offer him comfort. Luke shakes his head again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and his voice hardly carries. “I’m so sorry. I should… I should have told you. I should have told you long ago, probably after the second or third time we had a coffee together. But I didn’t… I didn’t want to… I didn’t want it to…”  
“Luke…” Iolaus says for the third time, and now he is worried, deeply worried, almost afraid. 

“This… for god’s sake…” Luke drags his hands down his face. “Iolaus…”

He sees a hardening in those bright blue eyes. It breaks his heart.

“I have…” He hates himself. Christ, he hates himself with a passion. “I have a… condition.”  
Iolaus bites his lips. “A condition?” He asks then. “What kind… of condition?”

Luke can hear the fear in his voice now, and he hates himself even more.

“I…” He gropes for words, is short of breath, and he sees Iolaus hunch his shoulders. He looks as if he is about to take a step back. 

“Please, Iolaus,” he says hastily. “Please… please, you have to believe me this one thing: You are never, you have never been, and you will never be in any danger from me. Please, please believe me.”

Iolaus doesn’t really relax and his eyes keep darting towards the door. 

“What kind of condition?” He asks again. “Why do you have to lock yourself away?”  
“I’m not a psychopath!”

Iolaus points at the door, the massive door with the timed lock, his expression somewhere between confusion and accusation. “Then why do you have to lock yourself away?”  
“I…”  
“And if I am not in any danger then why… why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…” Luke swallows hard, and it feels as if he has a brick in his throat. “I was… I didn’t…”

Iolaus shakes his head and swallows hard as well. “Okay… I understand… you have a… a… condition, and you didn’t want to tell me. It was… things were good, right? You didn’t want to tell me… and now?”

Luke can only shrug. Iolaus swallows and shakes his head, and his eyes fill with tears.

“Or did you just find out you doesn’t want me after all?” His accent thickens again. “Never wanted at the beginning and not now? Is this a lame excuse? You could just say me fuck off!”

“No!” Luke digs his fingers into his hair. “No! Iolaus…” 

He takes a step forward, but Iolaus takes a step back. 

“Iolaus, please… I didn’t… I didn’t lie. I still want… this. Us. But…”  
“But not… you are lying.”  
“I am not lying!”  
“Then tell me the truth!”

For a long moment they stare at each other, both with tears in their eyes. 

“Tell me the truth,” Iolaus says hoarsely.

Luke has no idea how. 

“Tell me.” It’s no more than a husky whisper now.

They stare at each other, but Iolaus makes no attempt to leave. Yet. He wants the truth, no matter how much it hurts.

Luke shakes his head and swallows hard, but the brick in his throat refuses to give. And then he breaks under the desperate stare out of those beautiful blue eyes. He walks past him and opens the door, and walks around him again so Iolaus has the open door at his back. Iolaus looks back between Luke and the door with utter confusion in his eyes. 

“What?”  
“I don’t want you to feel cornered.”  
“When you tell me the truth?”  
Luke can only nod.  
“Then tell me.

Another moment passes, but there is no way back anymore.

“I am a werewolf.”

After a few seconds, all that Iolaus does is huff out an angry, mirthless chuckle. Then he crosses his arms. Luke can smell the fear on him over here, a sure sign that the rise of the full moon is drawing close. 

“A werewolf,” he says then.  
Luke shrugs. “You think I’m a psychopath. A schizophrenic psychopath. ”  
“I don’t know what I think,” Iolaus replies. 

They stare at each other.

“A werewolf.”  
“Yes.”

They stare at each other. Iolaus crosses his arms.

“Prove it.”

Luke chokes on his own spit and coughs. “Are you fucking serious?”  
Iolaus sneers. “You liar.”  
“No.”  
“You want to get rid of me. You make up shit because you don’t want me anymore”  
“No!”  
“Then prove it!”  
“Are you fucking serious?” Luke wants to scream but he manages to keep his voice in check.  
“You said I will never be in danger! So admit you lie or prove it!”

Now Luke shakes his head, but then he opens the door. He takes a step back.

Iolaus looks, and sees the padded cell with huge claw marks on the walls. He looks at Luke again, and his face is pale. 

“I am not lying.”  
Iolaus still has his arms crossed.  
“Please…”  
“You are lying.”  
“But this…”  
“I have seen more damage at walls in the house what I live in!”  
“I am not lying!”

“Not?” It sounds so hurt, his voice his so dull, and every syllable breaks Luke’s heart. “Not lying? A werewolf? A psychopath? You’re sick?” He grits his teeth. “You’re an asshole.”  
“Iolaus... No...”

Iolaus huffs out a breath and faces him. His arms are still crossed, and there is a dark Have-at-you expression on his face. 

“Then prove it.”  
“You’re saying this to prove that I’m lying.”  
“Yes.”  
“What if I’m not?”  
“Fuck you,” Iolaus says with a bitter laugh. “You can’t prove it. It’s a lie.”  
“It is not!”  
“THEN SHOW ME!” 

It’s a scream of despair. Luke knows that all Iolaus wants to hear now is his confession that he was looking for a way to get rid of him. The truth. Not being dumped with a ridiculous excuse, just wanting, needing to hear that he is no longer wanted. The truth, no matter how much it will hurt.

Luke drops his head and shudders. He doesn’t know which is worse for Iolaus, the truth or the lie. In the end, he chooses the truth. 

It doesn’t take him long, and he doesn’t need much either. His eyes flash to amber and he feels his canines grow into fangs. He looks up at Iolaus, and he wants to just look at him, but with his fangs out he literally cannot do anything but snarl. 

Iolaus stares at him. His eyes widen, and his face loses all colour. He stumbles a step back, his mouth open in a silent scream. Luke doesn’t move. Iolaus stumbles another step back, then he turns around and runs as fast as he can. 

Luke keeps staring at the open door. Then he takes off his glasses and puts them on the small table. He steps into the cell and starts the timer before locking the door.

* * *

Luke doesn’t play love songs anymore. Neither does he say anything else, says nothing more than what he has always said. Just as before. Before a beautiful voice invaded his dreams, before a beautiful man came into his life. 

The closeness that he felt is gone. Iolaus isn’t listening to him anymore. He knows it, deep down, and Luke can’t even blame him. 

He plays music, and he drinks coffee, and he and Tom Waits keep each other company. He goes home alone after leaving the building at quarter past five in the morning. 

He spends New Year’s Eve at home, getting drunk alone on the sofa after declining the invitation of the others to join their party. 

He greets the new year alone. What little there is of fireworks around him vanishes in a grey fog, and the cheerful lights make it look as if the sky is bleeding dull colours into the murky whiteness. 

He draws the curtain and opens another bottle.

* * *

Nothing ever stays the same, and nothing ever changes.

Luke spends his night in the studio and talks to strangers.

One evening, it’s close to the end of January, he has a man on the phone who is in tears. He seems drunk but not hammered, and Luke waits for him to sort his thoughts. Turns out he is a trans-man, and he has fallen in love with a woman, and they hooked up and kissed. 

“I love her so much,” he says. “But I’m not what she thinks I am… but I can’t just live this lie because she will find out, but I can’t just tell her. I don’t want this to end, but I can’t just tell her I never want sex, can I?

“You have to tell her,” Luke says. “You’re right; right now you’re living a lie. But the longer you wait, the harder it gets, and the more painful it will be. Believe me, I know. It’s so hard, and you don’t want to, but if you don’t tell her now it will be a million times worse.”  
“You know, huh?”  
“I know.” Luke closes his eyes. “I’m not trans, so I don’t know how you feel, but for me... I wish I had told him from the beginning, but I didn’t because I was afraid. And when I finally couldn’t keep it a secret any longer it all shattered. Nothing left. It hurts more than I can say sometimes. So go and tell her. Tell her as soon as possible. Maybe it will end, but it won’t hurt as much. I should have told him, and it is the biggest regret of my life.”

The man thanks him and hangs up. Luke empties his cup and switches off the phone.

Then he plays music, and he is glad that he’s in a radio studio, because no one can see his tears.

* * *

Luke leaves the building at quarter past five and watches his breath fog before him for a moment. 

He’s there, on the other side of the road. Luke sees him and feels his heart clench. 

Then he walks, hesitantly, crosses the road, and comes to halt before him. His face is pale and his eyes are wary.

For a moment they look at each other.

“You say I was never in danger,” Iolaus finally says.  
“You weren’t. Never.”  
“So when…” Iolaus swallows hard. “When you… are changed. Are you still you? Is that still you inside?”  
“Yes,” Luke replies, and it’s nothing but the truth.

Iolaus takes a deep breath and nods, then he steps back. “I need time,” he says. “I need to think.”

Then he turns around and walks away. 

Luke watches him go with a tear rolling down his cheek. But all of a sudden, there is a tiny sliver of hope.


	4. Blind Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WinterFRE2017 - Prompt 71: Well, no, it’s not every day you’re transformed into an animal.
> 
>  
> 
> **Rating has been changed to Mature**  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Blind Faith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7p5yrim9tI) \- Def Leppard

It’s two weeks later, a Saturday morning as cold and grey and drizzly as any other day in February in Brooklyn. Luke is about to go to bed when he hears the doorbell. 

His heart begins to race as he opens the door. Iolaus looks at him with an unmoving face.

For a moment the two look at each other until finally, Luke finds his voice again.

“Do you… want to come in?”

He steps aside, and slowly and hesitantly, Iolaus steps past him and looks around. 

This time he follows Luke into the flat, and he stands there as if he is waiting for something. 

His nerves on the edge like never before, Luke needs to do something so he makes two cups of coffee. With those in hand he returns to the living room. 

Iolaus looks at him, arms still crossed. “Show me again,” he says.

Luke puts the cups down onto the table and swallows. But then he growls, and shows Iolaus the face of the beast. Iolaus pales a bit, but he doesn’t flinch. Luke lets the beast go and drops his head with a sigh.

“Is that all?” Iolaus asks. “No wolf?”  
“There is the wolf,” Luke replies.  
“And are you in the wolf too?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then show me.”

Luke nods slowly and steps back. He takes off his glasses and pulls off his shirt, steps free of his trousers and only hesitates when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxer shorts. Then he pushes them down and steps free of them too.

Iolaus looks at him, but now there is a faint blush on his cheeks, and he nervously licks his lips as he stares at Luke out of widening eyes.

Luke closes his eyes and calls for the beast.

After so many years he can change at will and within a moment. He remembers the agony during the first few times, when his body was still fighting the change. Now he can call it and make it go as he needs it. The only time he can’t fight it is during the hours around midnight under the full moon. Hence the room. 

His bones stretch and he doubles over as fur grows on his body. It doesn’t take more than a few heartbeats now, and there is the dark grey creature where Luke was a moment before. 

The creature is a wolf, but it’s more than a wolf. It’s bigger, and more massive, supernaturally strong and fast, and inside is the mind of a human. 

Iolaus looks down at him, and Luke, with the senses of the beast, can hear his fluttering, racing heartbeat. He looks up calmly, his amber eyes boring into the sapphire ones that stare at him in fear and something else. It might be wonder.

They stare at each other, and Luke does not move. 

Outside a car races past, the thrumming from the subwoofer like a heartbeat as well, fast and wild. In here, time stands still as a dark-furred beast and a young man with golden hair stare at each other, both wondering what happened to their world.

And then, after an eternity that can’t have been more than a minute, Iolaus kneels down before him, looks at the beast, and deeply into the amber eyes. He reaches out and cautiously, very hesitantly, touches the fur between his ears. He still smells of fear, but not nearly as much as the first time.

Luke can only close his eyes and shudders under the gentle touch. Then Iolaus takes his hand away and reaches into his shirt. He pulls out his necklace, a leather string with a few small charms and beads. He pulls it over his head. 

Iolaus reaches out and Luke opens his eyes as Iolaus slips the necklace over his head. It catches on one of his ears and he tugs it free, and then it hangs around the creature’s neck, the charms all but vanishing in the rich, dark fur. 

“Come back,” Iolaus says after a moment. His voice is husky.

Luke lets go of the beast again, and a few moments later he kneels on the carpet and looks up. He touches the necklace and can’t hold back his tears.

“You don’t have to take this off when you change,” Iolaus says, and it’s half statement, half question.  
“No,” Luke says. 

Iolaus reaches out again and caresses Luke’s cheek with a finger. “You will remember me,” he whispers.  
“Always,” Luke whispers back.

Iolaus drops his hand and closes his eyes for the duration of a few heartbeats. Then he looks up again. 

“Make love to me,” he whispers.

With shivers creeping down his spine Luke gets up, and Iolaus gets up as well. Then Luke reaches out and steps forward, his hand coming to rest on Iolaus’ shoulder. He lowers his head and the younger man closes his eyes. They kiss, a kiss that is as soft as the touch of a butterfly’s wing. 

And then, with a swift move, Luke gathers him into his arms and carries him into the bedroom where he gently puts him down on the bed. 

He is already naked, and he slips his hand under Iolaus’ shirt. Iolaus watches him with heavy eyelids, and a smile plays around the corners of his lips. 

Luke leans forward to claim those perfect lips again, and then he starts to undress him. Slowly, taking his time, and every inch of skin he uncovers he covers again with kisses.

He is so beautiful, beautiful everywhere. He has the body of a Greek god, and Luke worships him. He wasn’t prepared for this, not for him, not for anyone else, but he knows his way around a man’s body. 

Iolaus drops his head with a low moan as Luke bends over his lap. Luke can feel fingers dig into his hair, and he closes his eyes and forgets about himself. 

He listens to the beautiful voice, husky with arousal, and he has no idea what he says. He listens, and he feels, and Iolaus is all that fills his senses, every single one of them. 

His voice becomes ragged and he stutters, loses his words, but he comes on a shout, and that word Luke can understand. It is his name. 

He gathers Iolaus in his arms afterwards, tells him he doesn’t need to reciprocate anytime soon. He holds him, kisses his forehead, and can hardly fathom his luck. 

Cannot fathom how brave this young man was to come back to him. And how deep his trust is to stay. 

Luke looks at the beautiful face, and he realises Iolaus has fallen asleep in his arms. Overwhelmed by emotion he kisses the top of his head and closes his eyes. Tears trickle into the golden hair under his cheek.

* * *

Luke wants to let him sleep because god knows he doesn’t get enough, so he doesn’t move and just holds him, listening to his calm and even breathing. 

Iolaus doesn’t sleep for long, though. And when he wakes up the first thing he does is give Luke a smile that is so warm and full of affection that it makes his heart melt. 

There is something in those blue eyes that wasn’t there before. Or maybe something is gone that shouldn’t have been there. Whichever it is, those eyes are even more beautiful now. Brighter, somehow. More alive.

And below them, the perfect lips curve into a smile, and Luke can do nothing else than to kiss them again.

They part, and a second later Iolaus yawns. He slaps his hand across his mouth, a worried apology in his eyes, but Luke only smiles.

“Do you want a coffee?” He asks.  
“No. I want you.” Iolaus traces a finger down his cheek.  
“I’m not... prepared,” Luke replies hesitantly. “I don’t have...” Then he shrugs, helplessly, and with an embarrassed little grin.  
Now Iolaus smiles and kisses his lips. “I do,” he says shyly.

Luke is confused and he frowns. “What?”  
Iolaus chews on his lower lip for a moment.  
“You came here with condoms?” Luke asks him with an incredulous chuckle.

“I wasn’t... I really wasn’t sure,” Iolaus says. “But I wanted to be prepared. I... I wasn’t sure I can handle the beast... but I still want the man.”

Luke buries his face in the golden hair and has no idea what to say. 

For a moment they just cuddle, then Iolaus has to leave the bed anyway because he needs to utilise the bathroom. Luke can see he hesitates a bit before opening the door. 

“You don’t need disinfectant,” he says and now Iolaus looks at him with a wry grin. He winks.

When Iolaus leaves the bathroom he has such an air of relief about him it’s almost comical, but Luke knows it has nothing to do with why he went inside. He watches him through the open bedroom door, how he digs through the heap of coat and woollen wardrobe until he finds his shoulder bag. 

Luke’s throat gets dry when he comes back, because god... he is so beautiful, and he seems so comfortable in his skin. And he is carrying a box of condoms and a bottle of lube.

Iolaus drops the items on the nightstand and settles down on the bed again. He leans over Luke and his hair hangs around his face like a curtain of golden silk. Luke reaches out and touches a few strands, sifts them through his fingers.

“Have you ever lost control?” Iolaus asks him.  
“In the beginning,” Luke says, and he says it without hesitation. Now that he has taken the path of truth the going gets easier, and he will hide nothing anymore. “But I have never killed an innocent human being.”  
“Innocent,” Iolaus says and there is a small frown on his face.

“See.” Luke sits up and meets his eyes. “Have you thought about... if werewolves are real, then...”  
“Then all the other myths are true as well,” Iolaus says. “Yes. I have been thinking about it all the time.”

Luke licks his lips. “We... the werewolves. We have an alliance with the Institute. The Institute is a group of people who have supernatural traits, and they hunt demons and fight for the balance between good and evil. And you know as well as I do that there are not only monsters and demons on the side of evil.”

Iolaus nods and gestures at him to go on. So Luke goes on. 

This time it is him who is doing the talking, and Iolaus the one who listens. Luke tells him about the Institute and the Shadowhunters, and about werewolves and vampires and demons and warlocks and witches. He mentions the Mortal Instruments and also the fight for the Mortal Cup that turned werewolves and Shadowhunters from having a truce to being allies. 

It’s obvious that it’s all a bit much. But Iolaus keeps asking questions and listens intensely to Luke’s answers. 

In the end Luke has nothing more to talk about. Iolaus didn’t understand anything, and he says as much. 

“But it doesn’t really matter,” he says. “Maybe I will. Maybe I don’t have to. But...”  
“But?” Luke runs his fingers through the golden curls.  
“But there is... are more important things. You and me.”

Luke likes the sounds of those words. You and me. Between them, these words mean so much more than just that. 

“But you,” Iolaus begins again. “You are in control, but why the room?”  
Luke inhales deeply. “Because even if I can change at will, once a month I have to. During the hours around midnight under a full moon I have to change. And that is when the beast is wild. I have control, and I have never killed someone. But I’m not in absolute control, so I lock myself away. I have never killed or hurt someone like that, but I have destroyed things.”

Iolaus nods and exhales softly. “What about... sex?” 

It’s adorable how a faint blush appears on his cheeks even if less than two hours ago, Luke has given him a blowjob that made him come his brains out.

“You mean have I ever lost control during sex?”  
Iolaus nods.  
“No,” Luke replies. “Never. Sex and this... it’s not linked.”  
“Have you ever done it?”

Luke blinks rapidly a few times. “What? Have sex as a beast?”  
Iolaus nods again.

Luke is getting nervous now. Iolaus has every right to ask all the questions that he feels he needs answers for, but now they’re getting into a territory that makes Luke uncomfortable.

“I... no, I haven’t.”  
“Did you ever want to?”

Luke clears his throat. “No...” He says hesitantly.  
Now Iolaus frowns. “That is a lie.”  
“Yes. And no.” Luke runs his hands through his hair. “I... I thought about it. But it’s not... it’s not possible.”  
“Why?”

That is a question Luke can easily answer.

“Well, maybe technically it’s possible,” Luke says then, although the thought makes him feel uncomfortable. “But I can’t risk it. I know it’s me in that body, but if I came to bite my partner then...”  
“Then you would spread the curse.” 

Apparently Iolaus has done his homework and Luke nods with a shrug. “I thought about how it would be. But all other werewolves I know are male, and none of them is into guys. So it’s not going to happen.”  
“So you are afraid of losing control after all.” His voice trembles ever so slightly.  
“No. But have you never bitten anyone during a good fuck?”

Now Iolaus blushes and he pouts. “Yes,” he admits. “But... you have to... injure the skin?”  
Luke has to smile. “That’s true. And it’s also true that you have to bite very hard to break the skin.” He makes a significant pause. “As a human. So sex as a human is safe. Sex as a wolf... not so much, unless it’s with another werewolf.”

Iolaus bites his lips and nods.

Then Luke frowns. “You’re not... or do you...”  
“What?” Iolaus’ eyes widen. “Do I want to fuck the wolf?”  
Luke shrugs helplessly.

Iolaus stares. Then he laughs. 

“God, no,” he says then. “No. Never. I want... I want to... to... if I can... get familiar. Get used to it. Him. The wolf. But this here... I want the man.”  
“And you have the man at your disposal...” Luke hesitates and his smile wanes. “Most of the time,” he continues then. “And I know it’s a terrible thing and...”  
“Well, no,” Iolaus interrupts him. “It’s not every day you’re transformed into an animal.”  
“Thank god,” is Luke’s heartfelt reply.

Now they both smile, the atmosphere is significantly lighter now.

Their smiles soften as their eyes meet, and Iolaus closes his eyes as Luke leans over him. Their lips meet, and because they are both naked already their kisses turn from gentle to hungry within seconds. 

Hands roam, and their breathing is fast and hard now. Then Iolaus suddenly breaks the kiss and rolls onto his stomach. 

“I want you,” he whispers in a smoky voice.

Luke looks at those blue eyes, blown wide and dark with arousal. He grabs the lube and a condom, and when he turns around Iolaus is on all fours, his legs spread wide. He smiles at Luke over his shoulder. 

For a moment, Luke forgets how to breathe. He is so beautiful, so perfect, and he gives himself to Luke, his eyes full of trust and desire. 

He is cautious, very much so, but still, his first touch makes Iolaus clench a bit. For a moment Luke feels anger boiling inside him; he wonders if Iolaus has been hurt before. He runs a hand down his spine in a firm and what he hopes a reassuring touch, and Iolaus relaxes again. The next time Luke touches him, there is a soft moan. 

Luke is gentle but thorough, and even though Iolaus is getting impatient he wants to make sure he won’t hurt him. He takes his time, and in the end it feels even more amazing for it.

It’s when he nears his point of no return that he can no longer be gentle, but he still keeps himself in check as much as possible. His orgasm hits him and he is unable to think or control himself, and when his senses return to him a moment later, he reaches out and runs a hand down Iolaus’ trembling side and down under his body. It doesn’t take him more than a handful of strokes to bring Iolaus to climax as well.

He pulls back and Iolaus collapses into the mattress, and as fast as he can Luke disposes of the condom, then he quickly gathers him into his arms.

“Did I hurt you?” Luke asks in a shaky whisper.  
Iolaus smiles and shakes his head. “No,” he replies, in a whisper as well.  
“And you weren’t afraid?”  
“No. I’m not afraid of you.”  
“And the beast?” Luke asks, his voice still trembling.  
“The beast is a part of you,” he says. 

And Iolaus looks at him, and his smile softens, and he reaches out to touch Luke’s cheek with a finger.

“Luke,” he whispers and smiles. “I love you.”

All that Luke can do is bury his face into the golden hair again and cry. Only for a moment, but he is still overwhelmed by emotion.

“I love you,” he whispers and drops a kiss into the golden curls. Then he leans back, cradles Iolaus’ face in his hands and kisses him again. “I love you,” he whispers. “How do you say this in Greek?”  
Iolaus leans his head back with a puzzled smile. “I love you?”  
Luke nods.  
“Se agapó,” Iolaus whispers and bites his lower lip.

Luke inhales softly and gives it all he has.

“Se agapó,” he says in a soft and low voice while caressing Iolaus’ face with the back of his fingers. Then he gently wipes the tear from Iolaus’ cheek with his thumb. 

Iolaus swallows, blinks his tears away and then he starts talking again. 

He talks in a trembling voice; the words come slow and sometimes there are long pauses between them. 

Luke listens, and he doesn’t understand a word. Or he does. There are two words now that he knows, and he hears them again, together with his name.

Then Iolaus presses his face into Luke’s shoulder and Luke closes his arms around him, holds him tight, as tightly as he can. 

“Se agapó,” he mutters into Iolaus’ hair until he stops crying. And “Se agapó,” he whispers to him after he has fallen asleep.


	5. Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WinterFRE2017 - Prompt 62 “If I cut my hair, will you leave me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I linked this chapter's song further down in the text. You should start it at that point while reading. You will regret it because it made me cry, but in a good way. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting, I love you all! There's an epilogue coming and then we're done.

It’s March, and spring is waking up. Here in Brooklyn, it does so very slowly. It’s almost as if spring doesn’t want to get up and complains like a schoolchild that doesn’t want to leave the bed.

Just one more week, spring whines. 

March is cold and grey, but in the last week, spring has finally dragged itself out of the bed. The air gets milder and the constantly overcast sky is no longer a dark, leaden grey but a cloudy blue. 

Iolaus spends all his free time with Luke now, as little as it is. He even has a few items of underwear at Luke’s place, and Luke has bought another pillow and another duvet so Iolaus can be as comfortable as possible.

He hasn’t asked him to move in, although he desperately wants to.

Luke keeps thinking of the dirty shithole Iolaus has to live in. His own house isn’t the Taj Mahal but it’s clean, and there’s light, and the central heating works just fine. He is the only one to use the bathroom and he knows what a cleaning rag is. 

But he doesn’t want to ask. By now he knows that there is a solid level of trust between them. Proven by the fact that Iolaus came back to him even after learning what Luke truly is. But it’s not so long ago that Iolaus trusted himself and his whole life into someone’s hands, who then dropped him like a hot potato and abandoned him to utter misery.

So right now his life is shit, but it is his own. He has to struggle, but he doesn’t have to worry when he will suddenly have to look for a new life. 

Of course Luke would never throw him out. Even if they should break up, which he doesn’t believe, not anytime soon, he wouldn’t just throw him out but give him the time he needs to get himself sorted. 

He doesn’t offer. He feels that Iolaus is not yet ready for another leap of faith. 

It hurts him, somehow. But he also knows that the trust issues Iolaus has have nothing to do with him.

* * *

They have talked and Luke knows how the days look like for Iolaus. Three different jobs, and he has to juggle three schedules. He always has a notebook in his shoulder bag where he keeps track of his hours. 

These schedules are not sorted alphabetically but by how difficult the boss is. So he always has to make the schedule for the one fast food joint first, then the other, and in the end he squeezes his shifts at Wal-Mart in as and how he can. 

Luke has never seen the young Greek without shadows under his eyes.

But there is something else as well now. A bit more light in his eyes. He smiles so much more now. Sometimes Luke can glimpse a trace of mischievous humour in his eyes, and the smile widens and the dimples deepen. When he laughs his nose crinkles, and it looks so adorable that Luke wishes he could keep telling stupid jokes. 

He sucks at telling jokes. But he found a few of Iolaus’ ticklish spots and sometimes, when they fall into bed with every intention of having sex, they end up tumbling out of the bed laughing until their sides hurt.

Luke watches those smiles, and that laugh, and wonders what kind of man Iolaus really is. How he would be, how he would talk, if he weren’t constantly laden down with the dreadful place he lives in, the fear of losing his jobs and the struggles to get by. 

He wants to ask him to move in, he wants to take some of that load off his shoulders, but he doesn’t want to push him. So he offers comfort and plays Iolaus’ favourite music at night, when he knows that he is on night shift at Wal-Mart.

Sometimes he plays a cheesy love song, and he knows the next day if Iolaus has heard it or not, by the way he kisses him when they meet.

* * *

Towards the end of March he sees Iolaus without the huge woollen coat for the first time. He still wears the knitted hat and the Niagara fall of wool around his neck, but he smiles and tells Luke how much he is looking forward to not freezing anymore.

Luke wants to tell him that he wouldn’t have to freeze if he lived with him, but he says nothing. 

The buds begin to open, and so does Iolaus. 

Luke’s world lights up every time he smiles.

* * *

It’s in the first week of April, a cool and dark Monday morning, and Luke comes home from a shift. 

Iolaus is waiting there for him. He sits in the doorway with his knees drawn up. Luke wants to be happy, but by the way he huddles in there he knows it can’t be good.

The light in his eyes is gone again, replaced by the dull heaviness Luke has hoped he would never see again. 

He wordlessly opens the door and Iolaus follows him. Luke makes coffee and wonders what happened. Who has hurt him this time. What kind of catastrophe has hit now, and why fate can’t let him have a bit of peace.

Iolaus sits on the sofa with hunched shoulders. He looks small and vulnerable, and Luke has a lump in his throat as he sits down next to him.

He offers the coffee, and for the first time, Iolaus shakes his head. “I have to go soon.”  
“I thought you work from noon?”  
“I have to go to the hairdresser first.”

Luke feels a cold knot form in his stomach. “Iolaus?” He asks as gently as he can.

Iolaus takes a deep breath. 

“I have to get rid of my hair,” he says.

Luke’s hearts skips a beat. It shouldn’t, really. Hair is nothing serious. But it’s not what Iolaus wants, and for that, it hurts.

“Why?” He asks. 

Iolaus sighs and looks up. “I wanted to take a shower last night and there was a cockroach coming out of the shower.”  
“But Iolaus!” Luke runs his hands through his hair. “I’ve told you a million times you can have a shower here any time you want!”  
“Yesterday a customer at Burger Bob found a long hair in his food,” Iolaus continues as if Luke didn’t say anything.

Luke bites his lips. Burger Bob is the place with the asshole boss. 

Iolaus shakes his head, his eyebrows drawn together.

“It was dark and straight, and Bob was livid and he yelled at me, because he has told me before he doesn’t like men with long hair. The customer... you know, his girlfriend had long dark hair, but Bob yelled at me anyway although I always wear a cap. He told me if I show up there with long hair today I can go straight home again. So... if I don’t cut it off, I’ll lose that job.”

He looks so miserable. He has so little control over his life, and now he can’t even decide anymore how to groom himself and how to look.

It’s more than Luke can handle.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “You don’t have to do that.”  
Iolaus looks up. “I do,” he says. “Cornelli has increased the rent again and if I lose that job I can’t pay the rent anymore.”

“You can live here,” Luke says. 

He knows it’s not what Iolaus wants to hear. He knows it’s not what he wants. But he doesn’t want him to lose even more of himself.

“You can live here,” Luke says again. 

Iolaus narrows his eyes and Luke stops. He has overstepped a line. And now?

His voice is dull. “If I cut my hair, will you leave me?”  
“No,” Luke says as fast as he can. “No, I won’t. But if you live here, then you won’t have to.”

Iolaus leans back and crosses his arms. His eyes are wary. 

“Iolaus.” Luke takes a deep breath. “It’s not about the hair. You... you’re so miserable right now. You live in an utterly overpriced shithole and work yourself to death for asshole bosses and you never get a chance to take a breath. You don’t sleep enough and you can hardly eat properly to keep yourself healthy and...”

He licks his lips. Iolaus’ face is closed off. His eyes are empty.

“If you live here, with me, then you can quit that job. I know I can’t offer much, but we can make this work. If you can work two jobs, then I can as well. We can make this work, together.”

Iolaus says nothing.

“I know...” Luke heaves a deep and heavy sigh. “I know you... you’re not ready for another leap of faith. But I don’t have cockroaches, and my heating works, and the bathroom is clean and there’s always running water and no rusty pipes either. So maybe the neighbours here don’t come over with a cake for your birthday, but they’re not junkies or alcoholics or violent thugs.”

Iolaus stares and after a moment, he shakes his head. “I can’t.” 

“I thought you trust me,” Luke whispers, his heart breaking.  
“I do,” Iolaus whispers back. “I trust you with my life.”  
“But not with your heart.”

Iolaus stares at him for another long, hard moment. Then he suddenly gets up and grabs his jacket and his scarf. 

“I have to go.”

Luke lets him go. 

He destroyed everything.

He gets up, his limbs as heavy as lead. He locks himself away and lets the beast have him, and he screams and he rages and he hates the world and everyone in it, but most of all he hates himself. 

When he emerges again he is exhausted, and numb with pain. 

He drags himself to work. Even Tom Waits sounds reproachful that night.

* * *

He doesn’t want to go home that morning, but he has no idea where else to go. The coffee shop with its warm and friendly atmosphere will only scream misery at him if he sits there in the booth alone.

Iolaus is waiting for him. 

Luke’s heart beats faster as he walks up to him. He has no idea what to say. 

There is a hesitant smile on Iolaus’ face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Luke swallows hard, reaches out and pulls the woollen hat off his head. 

A mane of golden curls spills out and Luke stares at him. 

“I quit,” Iolaus says. 

He looks scared and lost. Luke does the only thing he can think of. He pulls him into a tight embrace, and Iolaus slings his arms around him and holds on for dear life. 

When they let go, Luke cradles Iolaus’ face in his hands and kisses him.

“I get the car.”  
Iolaus looks puzzled. “Why?”  
“To pick up your stuff?”

Iolaus wordlessly points towards the door, and only now Luke sees the backpack and the trolley suitcase.

“Is that all?” He asks.  
“Yes.”

A suitcase and a backpack, and it’s everything he owns. 

Luke has no idea what to say, so he grabs the backpack and the suitcase after opening the door and carries both inside.

Iolaus follows him and closes the door. Then he stands in the living room and looks as if he has no idea how he got there.

Luke steps close and brushes a few strands of hair out of Iolaus’ face. He pulls him close because he looks so lost, and he closes his arms around him.

“Welcome home,” he says, and Iolaus bursts into tears.

* * *

Spring is well underway, and across the road Mrs Atkinson’s balcony flower boxes are filled with hyacinths and pansies. It makes Luke smile every time he leaves the house.

Iolaus too seems like a flower just sprung from the bud. He laughs again, now that the load of living in shit and of the job he hated and yet was afraid of losing has fallen off his shoulders. 

Taking ridiculously long showers is a guilty pleasure of his. Luke smiles and pays the higher water bill without a word. The novelty would wear off at one point.

Iolaus takes him along to Wal-Mart, speaking on his behalf, and now Luke works a few hours during daytime there as well. He gets trained for checkout, though he spends most of his time bagging and making silly faces at cranky children to cheer them up. It works, most of the time.

* * *

It’s almost May, and they have gotten accustomed to each other and to living in close proximity that neither of them minds. 

Since he has to work less, Iolaus does a lot of work in the house as well and the two develop ridiculously romantic domestic routines. 

They bring each other coffee to bed. Iolaus doesn’t mind ironing and Luke looks so very much more presentable all of a sudden. Luke loves to brush Iolaus’ hair until it shines. 

One day Luke comes home and Iolaus is cooking. The house smells of food, and it’s so delicious it makes Luke’s mouth water and his knees go weak.

He has never eaten a moussaka like that in his life.

“How did you do that?” He asks. He is so full he has to undo the button of his trousers.  
Iolaus laughs. “I learned it.”  
“Back home, I assume.”  
“Yes.” His smile turns wistful. “I loved my job.”

It is at this moment that Luke realises he has never asked. Never asked what Iolaus has done for a living before he was dumped here to fend for himself.

“Your job?”  
“I’m a cook.”  
“A cook?” Luke looks at his empty plate. “Like, a trained chef?”  
“Yes.” Iolaus pushes his fork towards the edge of the plate. “I worked in my father’s restaurant.”

Luke is baffled. Stunned. He has never asked. 

“Your family...”  
“Has a restaurant, yes. In the countryside, north of Athens.”  
“I’m sorry I never asked,” Luke says and swallows. “I never...”  
Iolaus shrugs. “I didn’t like thinking of it either. I made myself forget.”  
“It must be hell frying stupid burgers all the time.”

Iolaus’ crooked, unhappy grin is all the answer he needs.

* * *

Quite obviously, Iolaus loves cooking. Quite obviously, Luke doesn’t complain. He buys himself a few new pairs of jeans and enjoys life. 

Iolaus loves the softening around his middle and spends endless time nuzzling the fuzzy curve. Luke wonders if he will still be able to fit through the door by the end of the year.

* * *

It’s the end of June when the letter comes. 

He comes home from work at Wal-Mart and has a few hours until he has to be at Radio Brooklyn. Iolaus is frying burgers again. He doesn’t mind it as much as he used to since he is able to cook again.

Luke opens the letter. He sits down.

When Iolaus comes home two hours later he still sits there, stunned and stony.

Iolaus is at his side in an instance, deep worry in his eyes.

“Luke?

Luke looks at him. “I don’t know if I should cry or dance in joy,” he says. 

Then he looks at the letter again. 

His grandmother died. And even though he left years ago and almost never wrote home, she never forgot her only grandson. And quite apparently, the old lady had had much larger life savings than anyone had been able to imagine.

Luke just inherited almost a hundred thousand Euros. 

When he had left Ireland years ago he had been the same age as Iolaus was when he came here. Only he had a plan back then. He had come alone, and had been prepared. He hadn’t seen a perspective in Ireland back then. His dreams had been unachievable. 

And now he has it in his hands. His dream, lying in his hands in the form of a piece of paper.

He looks up at Iolaus and the tears break free.

“I had a dream as a boy,” he whispers. “I thought it would never become real.” He looks at the letter.  
“But now it is real?” Iolaus asks softly.

Luke looks up again and nods. “I can make it come true.” He smiles at Iolaus through his tears. “I can go home.”

Iolaus nods, his face suddenly bar of all emotion. Luke knows what he is thinking and reaches out to rest a hand on Iolaus’ cheek. 

“Will you come home with me?”  
“Home?”  
Luke nods. “I know Ireland is not Greece, and Dublin is not Athens. But we can make a new start. Together.”

Their eyes meet, and after a moment, Iolaus nods. They have their arms around each other, and their foreheads touch. 

“Yes,” Iolaus whispers. “Yes, I will go home with you.”

* * *

**[Going Home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWpuAzmNyVc) **

Landing on Irish soil after so many years has Luke in tears. Iolaus holds his hands after they disembark, and hand in hand they leave the airport. 

“Hello Dublin,” he whispers. “Long time, no see.”

He exchanges a smile with the man at his side. He said yes when Luke asked him to come home with him. He said yes when Luke asked him if he wants to spend his life with him.

The gleam of gold on their left hands is still unfamiliar, and it makes Luke’s heart soar every time he looks at it.

* * *

Dublin is full of pubs, but when a new one opens folks are curious. 

The Mac Tíre quickly has a reputation. The name – the Irish word for wolf – was Iolaus’ idea and they still laugh about it. 

Luke does his job with a passion, but he suspects what really draws people here is the food. They serve Irish pub grub and Greek food and people comment how the chef has to love his job. 

He does. He hardly stops smiling. And Luke never gets tired of watching him. Those perfect lips curving into a smile, the dimples that appear on his cheeks and that adorable nose crinkle make him fall in love all over again, every single day.

* * *

Once a month they have a ceilidh and the kitchen is closed on that nights. Luke doesn’t dance; he has two left feet, but Iolaus does. He dances with every female in the pub, sometimes with guys as well, and Luke watches him, his hair flying and his eyes sparkling. 

Sometimes he can’t recognise this man when he thinks of that cold, dark November morning behind a brick building in Brooklyn.

He watches him dance, the man he loves, watches him laugh, and he falls in love all over again. 

When Iolaus is finally so out of breath he can hardly move anymore he walks, sometimes even stumbles, over to the bar to down a few glasses of water. More often than not he throws his arms around Luke to kiss him, making the whole pub break out in good natured wolf whistles, cat calls and cheers. Because he is happy, because he loves him.

And to show the girls he danced with that a dance is all they will ever get from him.

Luke watches him each and every day, and sometimes he can’t believe this is all real. Back in Brooklyn he would never have been able to imagine this man has so much joy in him.

* * *

Winters in Dublin are miserable too, wet and cold, but Iolaus quite obviously doesn’t care, because it’s not Brooklyn, because there are no rats and no cockroaches and no junkies, and he doesn’t have to work until he falls over from exhaustion. And when he crawls out of bed in the morning and has had far too little sleep it’s because they made love for most of the night.

* * *

There still are the nights under the full moon, but they have that covered. At one point late in the evenings, around last orders or sometimes a bit earlier, they don’t have to do more than exchange a look. Iolaus takes over the bar for the rest of the evening while Luke vanishes downstairs into the basement. 

No one knows about the room with the reinforced door and the timed lock down in the basement under the pub, next to where the barrels are. 

There is always food for him when he drags himself up the stairs. Food, a cup of tea, and a pair of arms to hold him. 

Sometimes Iolaus asks, and Luke complies, and Iolaus spends some time carding his fingers through the thick, dark fur. 

But no matter what shape he is in, Luke has never felt more at peace.


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one has no prompt, it just wraps up the story. Thank you all, for your lovely comments that made me happy during difficult days!

It is a gift from Luke for their first anniversary. He wasn’t sure about it at first, but then he went for it.

Iolaus stares at the printed tickets with parted lips. Then he looks up and his eyes mist over.

It wasn’t even expensive, it’s direct route with RyanAir, and it’s only a little more than four hours to Athens. He still offers Iolaus to cancel the tickets if he doesn’t want to go after all.

“No,” Iolaus whispers. “I would... I would love to go.”

So they go. Two weeks in a hotel south of Athens, and the white beach and the white houses look so perfect and pristine that Luke feels as if someone has magicked him into a travel magazine. 

He can see that Iolaus feels as much out of place as he himself felt upon coming back to Ireland. 

By now Luke’s brogue is so thick again that even Iolaus sometimes has troubles understanding him. Luckily he thinks it’s endearing and laughs, and then he tries to imitate him, and then they both laugh.

But Iolaus is clearly not quite at home anymore. If they moved here he would probably feel at home again at one point, but then, Luke also knows that coming back to where you came from is not the same as having never left. 

That’s why he went to Dublin and not Galway where he grew up. 

Iolaus is still happy, and while he isn’t sad here he is very thoughtful. Luke thinks he knows what bothers him, but he says nothing for now.

By the end of the first week it’s Iolaus himself who asks. 

So they rent a car and leave Athens on the road going north.

They drive for three hours until they reach a place that is either a small town or a large village. There is a hotel and a few holiday cottages and B&Bs.

There is also a restaurant but that is closed, and next to the building is a wall encircling a yard. They park the car and Iolaus holds on to Luke’s hand with an iron grip as they walk towards the gate in the wall. 

It’s been more than two years, almost three, since Iolaus has run away from home with what he could carry on his back, and with a man who had promised him the world. Now he comes back and Luke wishes he could comfort him and tell him it will be fine, but the truth is, he has no idea if they will be thrown out again.

It’s the backyard of the restaurant they now stand in, and the large, L-shaped house is to the left and front, and a garden to the right. They are standing on the patio of the restaurant that is on their left, and from here they can get a glimpse of the interior through an open window.

The part of the house they look at has to be the part where the family lives, and the door is open. A fat, grey cat lies on a bench next to the open door.

Luke can feel Iolaus tremble, and he can’t even begin to fathom what he feels. 

And then someone steps through the door, a middle aged woman, stocky and with a large bosom, her greying hair in a bun. She sees them and a deep frown forms on her face and it’s quite obvious what she thinks of tourists who can’t read a _Closed_ -sign in four different languages.

And then she looks again. 

Her eyes widen and she slaps both hands across her mouth as if to hold back a scream. A sob escapes her that is audible across the yard. 

She takes a few hesitant steps towards them, her hands outstretched before her as if she means to reach for them.

“Iolaus,” she whispers, tears welling out of her eyes.

“Mama,” Iolaus whispers back. His face is wet with tears as well.

Luke slowly takes a step back, and then another one. 

Iolaus’ mother now speaks, her voice is thick and rough and it breaks on every other word. Iolaus has tried to teach him some of his language and Luke isn’t doing half bad, but this too fast and is beyond his skills. He listens to a language he has so far only heard from Iolaus, and while he understands a word here and there, he can’t really follow. 

But watching them, he doesn’t really need to.

Iolaus takes a step forward and lifts his hands as well. They are trembling as much as his mother’s do, and then their fingers touch

They look at each other for a heartbeat and then suddenly Iolaus is in her arms and they both are crying openly; Iolaus is burying his face into his mother’s shoulder and she has both arms around him, one hand at his back and the other in his hair. 

Iolaus’ mother holds on to her son with all her strength, she sobs and Luke thinks he knows what she says. But even if he wouldn’t speak a word of Greek he would still be able to understand what she means. 

Mother and son hold on to each other for a long time before they are finally able to let go again. They still hold each other’s hands, and they look at each other with tear-stained faces. 

And then Iolaus’ mother looks down and lifts his left hand. She looks at the ring and back at her son’s face.

Iolaus licks his lips and lets go of her hands, then slowly steps aside. He turns halfway around and looks at Luke, then back at his mother.

Now Luke looks at the woman properly for the first time. Her eyes are swollen and red, her cheeks are wet. There is a fine webbing of lines around her eyes, but there are also rather pronounced smile wrinkles. Her dark eyes search his face, and Luke inclines his head. 

She takes a step forward and holds out both hands. Luke takes them and smiles. Without taking her eyes of Luke’s face she asks her son something, and from what Luke understands his answer to her question is no. Then he adds an explanation, and Luke can hear his name, but also another name, a name he has heard only once so far, the name of the man Iolaus had followed to the other end of the world.

Then Iolaus’ mother asks Luke something, and Iolaus steps closer and translates.

“You will take good care of him?”

“Always,” Luke says, meeting her eyes. “He is everything to me. I love him.” And then he smiles. “Ton agapó,” he says. _I love him_. And he means it with all his heart. 

Apparently Iolaus’ mother sees the truth in his eyes and she nods, a smile growing on her face as her eyes fill with tears again. She lets go of Luke’s hand and steps forward to embrace him as well. 

Luke closes his arms around her, and he is several inches taller so she should vanish in his embrace, but the embrace of this small, stocky woman is so warm and fierce that it feels the other way round. 

She steps back, and the words she says now Luke understands. She bids him welcome. Luke smiles and thanks her, another of the few Greek phrases he has mastered, even though he knows his accent is atrocious. 

Then she smiles at him, broadly and warmly. “Maria,” she says.  
“Luke,” Luke replies with another bow of his head.

And then he looks at Iolaus. “Can you translate something for me?”  
Iolaus nods.  
So Luke looks at Maria and says: “I love him with all my heart and I have never been so happy.”

Iolaus relates those words and Maria smiles and wipes her eyes. She pats his arm. 

Luke isn’t done yet, however. “Tell her: Thank you for giving life to such a wonderful man.”

Iolaus hesitates for a moment, but not because he is reluctant but because he has to get a grip on himself. They exchange a smile, and Iolaus translates Luke’s word to his mother.

And then she is in tears again, and she steps forward and embraces Luke again, and she pulls him down to press a kiss onto each of his cheeks.

She lets go and closes her hands around his arms for a moment before stepping back. She waves at both of them to come inside, but before they reach the door someone else steps out.

He is in his fifties, and his short wavy hair is grey but still shows traces of blonde. His eyes are piercing blue and he stares at the three with an unmoving face.

Iolaus takes a deep breath, and he squares his shoulders and takes a step forward. There are more tears now, and Luke and Maria both watch how father and son look at each other.

“Bampás?” Iolaus’ voice is small and trembling, but it’s clear that he’s not afraid of the man but of his reaction.

They stare at each other. 

Iolaus’ father takes a step, a very hesitant step, towards his son. Luke can see his lower lip is trembling. And then he reaches out, and with trembling fingers, touches Iolaus’ cheek. 

“Iolaus,” he whispers hoarsely, and Iolaus bites his lips with a small sob. “O gios mou.” _My son_.

Iolaus swallows hard and tries to blink his tears away.

Next to him, Luke can hear Maria sob as well, and she shivers. He puts a hand on her shoulder, and she rests one of her hands on his. 

Luke watches, the hairs on his arms rising as he does so. He knows the one word Iolaus’ father whispers. 

“Lypoúmai...” _I’m sorry_. 

He thinks he knows the other phrase he says. He has heard those words from Maria as well, and from the word pool he has he can figure out their meaning. 

“Boreís na me synchoríseis...” The older man’s voice is as brittle as old leaves as he asks for his son’s forgiveness. 

Iolaus licks his lips and chews on the lower lip for a moment. Tears trickle down his cheeks.

“Nai,” he whispers. “Nai, sas synchoró.” 

Luke knows that nai means yes, so it’s clear what he just said. 

And then his father pulls him close, clamps his arms around him, and all Iolaus can do is close his arms around his father who cries, cries in the hoarse and rusty sobs of a man unused to tears and ashamed of them. 

He whispers the word _Lypoúmai_ into his sons’ hair, over and over again.

When they finally let go of each other both are still in tears, and next to Luke, Maria is clutching a crumpled tissue and keeps wiping her eyes. 

Father and son embrace again, firmly and for a long time, until they let go and step away from each other. 

Now Maria resolutely stuffs the handkerchief into her pocket and clears her throat.

“Perikles,” she says, and her husband looks at her. Quite obviously it’s only now that realises there is someone else. 

Iolaus’ father looks at Luke for a long moment, and Luke can see how he battles with himself. How he wants to be the father Iolaus knew before this catastrophe happened. How he tries to get over the most likely religiously ingrained beliefs.

He takes a hesitant step, and then another one. Then he holds out his hand. Luke inclines his head and takes it. It’s a firm handshake; the moment Luke takes his hand Perikles closes his fingers around Luke’s without hesitation. 

He says nothing, and Luke says nothing either. It’s the first step, and it’s the most important one, and Luke appreciates it very much, yet he doesn’t want to push the man too far. He already took a gigantic leap. 

They let go, and at that moment Maria steps forward, and she takes Luke’s arm in a firm grip, and talking to him as if he understands every word, she drags him inside. 

Iolaus’ father nods at his son, and Iolaus nods as well before he steps through the door. Perikles is the last to enter the house, and he closes the door behind him.


End file.
